


The Glory Hole

by keresWings



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Glory Hole, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keresWings/pseuds/keresWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which A Highblooded Submissive Is Taken By His Midblood Dom To A Lowblood Party Where The Highblood Is Consensually Forced To Perform Anonymous Oral Sex On Several Lowbloods.</p><p>Contains Slurry Drinking, Dominance Of A Highblood By A Caste Inferior, Public Humiliation, And A Raunchy And Rancorous Lowblood Party That Would Be Unsuitable For Civilized Highblood Attendance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Glory Hole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Louse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louse/gifts).



> Fenrir = Grand Highblood  
> Alesha = Dolorosa
> 
> Headcanon ancestor names used for ease of writing. Feel free to replace them with your own headcanon names for ease of reading.

“Got a present for you,” Alesha says, scratching at Fenrir's skull between his horns. He looks up from where he's kneeling in front of his throne, head in her lap, enjoying the look of the jadeblood surrounded by bones.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he tells her, pushing up into her hand like an eager puppy. She smiles and indulges him, nails carefully circling around the base of his horns.

“Go get dressed, we're going out tonight.” Obediently, Fenrir rises and goes to get dressed. He stands in front of his closet, indecisive.

Alesha is a good dom, he thinks to himself, pulling out a simple dress shirt and slacks. He leaves the top two buttons undone, smoothing the dark purple fabric over his scarred, muscular torso. He fiddles with the plain leather collar on his neck, making sure the tag was prominent. Slipping his feet into dress shoes and wiping his horns quickly over with a polishing cloth, Fenrir briefly fixes up his facepaint and is waiting by the door when Alesha comes back, wearing tight leather corset over a jade shirt and a sweeping skirt. He bows his head as she clips his leash to his collar with a decisive snap. With a small smile and a smaller tug, Alesha leads the Grand Highblood, scariest highblood on Alternia, out the door.

Fenrir has no idea where they're going, but he gets an idea as his dom leads him away from the purple section of the city, through the various shades of blue, and heads deep into the green, towards the yellow neighbourhood. He can hear the deep thump of bass and percussion – she's taking him to a party. And not one of the normal parties they attend, with seadwellers and royalty and ambassadors and stuffy political talk, no. Lowbloods were notorious for throwing parties that were out of control, with copious sopor abuse and public sex. Fenrir had been dispatched by the Condesce to break up several, and he'd seen some strange things in party slums.

When Alesha and Fenrir reach the outskirts, a few lowbloods start, but then relax when they see him with his head down and hands clasped behind his back, obediently following Alesha on a leash. There's several others on leashes or dressed up in chains and bondage and leather, and Alesha talks to several other doms, Fenrir waiting patiently behind her. He attempts to sneer at a rustblood poking him with a stick and then dancing away, but as soon as he lifts his head there's a sharp yank on his collar, almost pulling him off balance. He looks at his matesprit, just to see she hasn't even broken her sentence. His bulge twitches at the display of absolute power over him, enough that he forgets about the insolent rustie.

When she says goodbye to the brownblood with his olive slave at their feet, she deigns to send him a glare. “Play nice,” she says lowly in a pleasant voice, “or I'll bend you over and cane you right here in the middle of the street.”

He shivers, debating between wanting the punishment and not wanting to displease her. “Yes, Mistress.”

Alesha gives him a dismissively haughty look before tugging him into a building. It's cramped and hot, packed with gyrating, writhing lowblood bodies. Fenrir towers head and shoulder over most of them, but no one pays them any mind. Alesha leads him along the wall and slips down a hallway, Fenrir at her heels like a puppy, doing his best not to knock into anyone. Alesha takes him into another room and then the walk-in closet. He stands up fully, gratefully cracking his back before looking at Alesha.

He's not sure if he's allowed to speak, but he chances it anyway. “Mistress?” he asks. Alesha beckons him down.

“Kneel here, little pet,” she says, and Fenrir immediately sinks to his knees. “I've reserved this for us for the next few hours.” He still looks confused, so Alesha elaborates. “You're going to work the glory hole for me.”

Fenrir's blood burns as his brain shuts down. Anonymous oral sex, supervised by his Mistress? His face is going to be covered in lowblood colours the the rest of the night, he knows she's not going to let him wipe it off.

He can feel his nook dampening the seat of his trousers as he nods his understanding. Alesha smiles and brushes his hair back from his forehead, pressing a kiss at his hairline. “You're such a good slut for me,” she praises him, and she quickly slips outside to flip the sign over the glory hole, letting people know there is someone working it.

Almost as soon as Alesha closes the door and slides the bolt over, a dripping yellow bulge is shoved through the hole, writhing at Fenrir's face. He sends a quick look at Alesha and she just raises her eyebrows at him in return. Fenrir takes a deep breath and dives into it, taking the wiggling tip into his mouth and sucking hard, curling his lips around his fangs. He can barely hear Alesha walk closer to him with the hard, loud music, but he feels her hand gently wrap around his horn, her thumb stroking in encouragement.

Purring a bit with the knowledge that she's watching him, he sucks the bulge down as far as he can, nose pressed against the wood as he curls his tongue, fighting his gag reflex as he feels the yellow bulge undulate in his throat. It's when he feels the genetic material start to trickle down his esophagus that he has to pull back, smacking his tongue against the back of his throat to try and get rid of the thick, sticky feeling. It doesn't go away, but he ignores it to lap back at the bulge, feeling Alesha's grip tighten on his horn.

“I want you to swallow everything they give you,” she commands, her breath hot against his ear, and he squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering with lust and trepidation, the idea of the debasement (he's essentially _drinking_ from this lowblood's _pail_ ) making his bulge twist against his slacks. He bobs his head quickly, sucking hard, and he can feel the bulge shudder between his lips and the warm genetic material washes over his tongue. It tastes sugary, with a hint of sourness, and he attempts to swallow as much as he can, but it just keeps coming, and despite his efforts, some of it ends up smeared across his cheekbone and dripping onto his shirt. He sees a streak of white from his face paint on the bulge as its owner pulls it from the glory hole and ambles off. Despite the heat of the closet, Fenrir can feel the bright yellow drying on his cheek, going cold and sticky. Alesha presses a kiss between Fenrir's horns.

“Very good,” she tells him, “although you didn't quite catch all of it.” Fenrir hangs his head.

“I'll be better next time,” he says, and Alesha smiles as a brown bulge is shoved through the hole. Fenrir nearly jumps onto it, determined to prove his worth. He mouths up along the top, licking a thick stripe down to the tip before taking the bulge to the base. It's thicker than the yellow one was, and his mouth feels uncomfortably stretched around it, and when Alesha forces him down further on it, pressing his nose and lips against the wood of the wall, he whimpers, swallowing hard and fast around the bulge as his eyes tear up and the brownblood comes, spilling down his throat as Fenrir fights against the deathgrip Alesha has on his horn, pressing him down on this anonymous bulge.

He's seeing stars when Alesha finally pulls him back, gentle compared to the harsh, unrelenting domination she exhibited just seconds before. She strokes his face, coaxing him back to reality.

“Well done,” she says, praising him. He smiles dazedly at her, his lips and chin splattered with brown genetic material, his makeup smeared and his hair even more mussed than it usually is. “You did well, my darling,” she says, kissing his forehead gently and letting him rest his temple against her clavicle as she strokes his hair, letting him recover. “I am so proud, you've made me so proud.”

Fenrir lets go a small purr, pressing a loving kiss to the swell of her breast exposed by the low cut shirt over the corset. “Thank you, Mistress. I'm okay now.”

Alesha gently pulls him back and lays one last kiss just above his hairline. “Good, let's keep working.”

She smiles down at him, and he returns that smile before turning to the rust coloured bulge that was just pushed through the glory hole.


End file.
